


summer's blowing cold

by nights



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt Sokka (Avatar), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Zuko (Avatar), Post-Canon, Protective Zuko (Avatar), Trauma, aka they take a bath, non-sexual nudity, please see end notes for specific tws re: mental health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:02:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28824171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nights/pseuds/nights
Summary: With Sokka, it lurks. It’ll creep up on them slowly, stalking Sokka through dinners with their friends and fishing days out on the water and mornings spent in bed with Zuko. Zuko always notices it first, in the set of Sokka’s shoulders. Sokka will swear up and down that he’sfine, he’s totally fine, until something finally breaks the dam.---Long after the events of Sozin's Comet, Sokka feels the effects linger; still, no matter what, Zuko's there.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 224





	summer's blowing cold

**Author's Note:**

> please see end notes for specific tws re: mental health
> 
> i wanted to see more content giving attention to sokka's trauma, letting him be the vulnerable one and putting zuko in the caretaker role, so i wrote it! this is just a little one shot about zuko loving his husband very much. thank u and enjoy the show!
> 
> title pulled from agnes obel's "run cried the crawling"

It comes and goes.

Sometimes they both go months without a single bad day, so long that it starts to feel like maybe it was all a dream, somehow. As if it was a different Sokka, and a different Zuko, that would lie awake in the night, or spend the day in bed with the curtains drawn, or have to cut meetings short in panic. It’ll start to feel so distant, Zuko wonders if maybe this time it’ll stay that distant forever, just fade from memory, leaving empty space to fill with new things, good things.

Of course, it comes back eventually. With Zuko, it comes back all at once, like an unexpected wave crashing on the shore. He’ll wake up in the middle of the night, heart racing, sweating like it’s midsummer, even when it’s the South Pole in the dead of winter. And he feels so _angry_ , every time, waking with an ugly vengeance in his chest and hot tears in his eyes.

Sokka’s a heavy sleeper — unless Zuko’s having an especially bad one, he won’t wake up — so Zuko will lie back down, reach out for Sokka’s shoulder, and urge him awake. They’ve long since agreed that it’s only fair, since Zuko’s roused by any little peep, and always gets up for Sokka’s. Sokka will grumble in his sleep, and squirm — but when he sees Zuko’s wide eyes, he’ll pull him in and tuck Zuko’s head against his chest, running his fingers through Zuko’s hair.

Zuko likes to talk, when it happens. If he puts the dream to words, whispered to Sokka, it gets the dream out of his head and into the air, where it can drift away. Sokka will hum, and keep running his fingers through Zuko’s hair until his breathing finally slows.

With Sokka, it lurks. It’ll creep up on them slowly, stalking Sokka through dinners with their friends and fishing days out on the water and mornings spent in bed with Zuko. Zuko always notices it first, in the set of Sokka’s shoulders. Sokka will swear up and down that he’s _fine,_ he’s totally fine, until something finally breaks the dam.

Sometimes the thing that breaks the dam will be his leg, aching so badly Sokka has to cancel the day’s plans, and Sokka will grit his teeth and hide tears of frustration.

It’s usually during the Fire Nation storm season, when weather will swing wildly from one extreme to the next, that Sokka’s leg acts up. The squall rolls in, howling against the shuttered palace windows, and Zuko walks into their quarters to find Sokka lying on a couch, scrolls and papers scattered around him.

He’s got his leg propped up, and he’s squinting through his glasses at a long scroll unfurled clear down to the floor, lips pressed together. Sokka doesn’t look up when Zuko comes in, shutting the door quietly behind him.

“Sokka.” He doesn’t tear his eyes away from the scroll, but he grunts a little, to acknowledge Zuko’s presence.

Zuko sighs, padding across the room. There’s truly an obscene number of papers; diagrams spread on the low table in front of the couch, scrolls littered all across the floor, books stacked on the side table. Zuko pities the assistant that was made to fetch them all.

“Sokka,” Zuko repeats, sitting on the edge of the couch, laying a hand on Sokka’s hip. “I thought we agreed. No work in —”

“In our bedroom, I know,” Sokka finishes, pulling the ledger closer to his face. “I’m not in the bedroom. I’m in the side room, or whatever.”

Zuko eases the scroll out of Sokka’s hands, and Sokka looks at him guiltily.

“Look, it’s just — I have a really full week, and if I don’t get at least _some_ of this done then I’ll be way overbooked later, and we’re leaving for the South soon and if I don’t get all of this done before we leave then I’ll have to do it by messenger hawk and you know how stressed out that makes me, and then I’ll be grumpy and you’ll be upset with me and —”

Sokka’s breathing is starting to pick up, so Zuko scoots closer to cup a hand around Sokka’s face, smoothing a thumb over his cheek. Touch helps; Sokka says it grounds him when he’s spiraling.

He stops short, breathing hard through his nose, and stammers a little. “I — I’m — it’s just a lot right now, and then my fucking leg —”

“I know.” Zuko leans in, lays a kiss on Sokka’s cheek. “You’re doing such a good job.”

Sokka’s face screws up in a grimace, brows drawing tight together, and his eyes fill. “Don’t — stop it. I told you, I’m fine. This — my leg, it happens all the time.”

Zuko just looks at him.

“I’m fine. Really.”

Zuko exhales, then pulls up the leg of Sokka’s trousers to rub over Sokka’s shin, pushing a gentle heat through his palm.

“Will you take a break with me?” Zuko asks quietly. “Just for a little. For me.”

Sokka rubs disobedient tears off his cheeks and sniffs, then clears his throat. “Okay.”

They shift, so that Sokka’s laying back with his head on Zuko’s chest, ankle and shin and knee pressed against Zuko’s heated leg. Zuko eases Sokka’s hair out of its tie and presses his face to the top of Sokka’s head, inhaling the scent of water tribe soap, floral palace bath oil, and something so specifically Sokka that Zuko can never quite put his finger on.

“I’m just — everyone’s waiting for me to finish this stuff before we go, and I can’t — they’re relying on me, and I have to… I can’t let this stupid leg get in the way of it —”

“You don’t _have_ to do anything,” Zuko murmurs into Sokka’s hair. Sokka’s body is still tense, all coiled muscle and stiff joints.

“But I _do_ ,” he mumbles, turning to muffle it into the fabric of Zuko’s robe. “I do, I have to, I —” He starts to breathe fast again, tightening his grip on Zuko’s arm, stuttering words that don’t really lead from one thought to the next.

Zuko just holds him, and murmurs softly to him, and lets Sokka grip his arm as tight as he needs to. He shudders, and weeps, and takes gasping breaths, fingers digging in to the arms Zuko’s wrapped around his body. Zuko knows that it’ll run its course, and that what Sokka needs is someone to just be there through it, a safe port in the storm.

When it’s subsided, Sokka’s body finally relaxes, and he groans.

“Sorry,” he whispers, hands coasting along Zuko’s arms. “Sorry.”

“Sokka. Don’t ever apologize.”

“I know, I know, it’s still — I don’t know why, but it’s still a little scary for you to see me like this. After all this time. It doesn’t make any sense, but.”

Zuko presses another kiss to Sokka’s hair. “That’s okay. I’ll just keep telling you it’s fine, and that I love you. Sound like a plan?”

Sokka huffs a little laugh. “Yeah. That’s a good plan.”

Sokka puts up a valiant effort to try to get back to work, complaining about how much future Sokka is going to hate him, but he doesn’t budge, and Zuko doesn’t either. They stay like that the rest of the evening, until Sokka starts dozing against Zuko’s chest, and finally lets Zuko urge him up and into their bedroom. Sokka whines that it’s extravagant, it’s over-dramatic, but he still lets Zuko bring him dinner in bed.

Sometimes the thing that breaks the dam will be a sleepless night, and Zuko will roll over in their bed to find Sokka wide awake, staring at the ceiling of their cottage. Sokka always waits for Zuko to notice, to ask him if he’s alright, and then Sokka will shake his head _no_ and they’ll get up, together.

Sokka doesn’t like to talk about it very often. Most times, they’ll just creep outside, and Zuko will sit next to him in the snow quietly, listening to the whistle of the polar breeze and the soft puffs of Sokka’s breathing.

Sokka will lean his head on Zuko’s shoulder and think so loudly Zuko can almost hear it. He’s restless, agitated, and the cold night air helps.

“I miss her,” he says. “I only knew her for a few days, but… I miss her. It’s been so long, now, I worry that I’m forgetting her.”

Zuko takes a mitten off of each of their hands, to twine their fingers together. The moon’s heavy and nearly full in the sky, so bright reflecting off the snow that it doesn’t feel like it’s fully nighttime.

“You’re not forgetting her. The way you talk about her… I almost feel like I know her.”

Sokka sighs, letting silence grow for a while. “But did I _really_ know her? How can I still feel like this, after so long, when I wasn’t even — I don’t know. I thought I was falling in love. We were so little. _She_ was so little.”

Zuko thinks. “Uncle says there are as many different kinds of love as there are people.”

Sokka turns their hands over, spreading out Zuko’s, palm up, and traces over the lines with his fingers.

“We should visit him soon,” Sokka says, and Zuko hums in agreement. No matter how frequently he sees Iroh, Zuko always feels like it’s been too long.

They sit in silence for a while, Sokka tucked into Zuko’s side. Zuko bends a little heat into his fingers and cups Sokka’s bare hands — the moonlight catches the steam that rises off them, lighting it up silver. There’s a part of Zuko, a part that’s childlike and illogical and still believes in magic, that wishes he could just fix it all, for Sokka. He wishes he could wipe the slate clean, tie every loose end up with a bow, bring back all the dead and gone and make it as if nothing bad had ever happened in the first place — he _knows_ he can’t do that, but when Sokka’s staring up at the moon with sad, hollow eyes, it’s the only thing Zuko wants in the whole world.

Still, as much as Zuko wants, he can’t; the only thing to do is be a solid, warm weight for Sokka to lean into, and let the silence drag on for as long as Sokka wants.

“Do you think she knows how much I miss her?” Sokka says, breaking the quiet. His hand hasn’t left Zuko’s for a single moment. “Or maybe she’s busy with important moon things.”

It comes up over and over again: Sokka’s worry that somehow, despite all evidence to the contrary, Yue’s unaware of how much she meant and still means to him. It doesn’t matter how many times Zuko reminds Sokka, he still worries, and Zuko still tells him, every time —

“If there’s one person the _moon spirit_ has time for, it’s you.”

Sokka sighs. “Sure, but like —”

Zuko turns his attention to the sky. “Yue, would you please tell Sokka that you are not too busy with important moon things?”

“Zuko —” Sokka snorts, and muffles a laugh in one of his hands.

“Because apparently, my husband doesn’t understand that he’s one of the most caring, loving people on this planet, and that anyone who doesn’t see that is a fucking idiot.”

Sokka heaves a long sigh, but a smile has started brewing on his face. “Stop it.”

Zuko leans his temple against Sokka’s, so close the humid air from their breath mingles together. He squeezes Sokka’s hand, still clutched tight. In the moonlight, Sokka looks a bit like a spirit, too, face ringed with soft white fur, cheekbones curving high and regal, blue eyes sparkling with the reflection of the stars. Zuko’s in awe of him every day, and especially every night.

“She knows. She has to.” Zuko kisses him on the cheek, and when he does, Sokka’s skin in freezing.

“Hmm. I guess,” Sokka relents.

They sit for a while longer, until Sokka trembles slightly against Zuko’s side.

“Cold?” he asks, and Sokka nods, so they go back to bed. Zuko warms Sokka up, with sweet kisses and hands like hot coals, until Sokka finally nods off, long limbs flung around Zuko’s body. Zuko’s always exhausted when he wakes up after a late night like that, but he wouldn’t miss those moments with Sokka in the snow for a single wink.

Sometimes the thing that breaks the dam will be completely unrelated. They’ll be gutting fish down south, or walking through the palace gardens, or even just waking up together, and something — it’s always a mystery to Zuko, exactly what it is — will set Sokka’s mouth into a terse line, and he’ll be distracted and flighty all day.

He’ll snap at Zuko, sometimes; each time, he immediately softens, apologizing, and Zuko never holds it against him. It used to upset Zuko. He never took Sokka’s words personally, but seeing the man he loved so distressed made Zuko fretful, too. There had been a couple weeks there, near the beginning, when they were young, when Sokka had snapped one too many times and Zuko had blown up, and then cried, and then Sokka had cried, too, and they’d both yelled and stalked out of rooms and slammed doors until finally they sat down together and _talked_.

They made a deal: Zuko would give Sokka all the space he needed during the day, let him throw up all the walls he wanted, and Sokka would promise to let those walls down by the time they went to bed.

It’s another one of _those_ days when Sokka leaves their bed to take breakfast before Zuko. Zuko, half-asleep, feels him rise from the mattress, and reaches out a clumsy hand to drag him back. The night before had been so sweet — Sokka had brought Zuko a little bundle of flowers he’d picked in the garden, and Zuko had kissed him silly for it, and read aloud from the latest play he’d been reading. He’d kissed Sokka’s head when he noticed Sokka snoring softly against his chest, and Sokka had mumbled sweet things to him in response; a far cry from the Sokka next to him this morning.

Sokka huffs and brushes his hand off. “Zuko, I can’t. I have a lot of work today.”

Zuko whines, scooting over. “Nooo. Not yet. Please —?”

“Zuko —” Sokka huffs again. “I don’t have time for this today. Stop it.”

He pulls back, a little stung. _So it’s one of those days._

Zuko just curls under the covers again, Sokka’s form blurry through his lowered lids. He’s pulling clothes on, tying drawstrings and fastening buttons with irritable fingers, and then sleep pulls Zuko under again.

He’s woken up by his administrator, Chariya, snapping the curtains back with that purposefulness that always startles Zuko right awake.

“Come on, up you get. First order of business is a meeting with the agricultural ministers and junior administrators; I believe spring fish harvests are on the agenda —” she consults a pad of paper in her hands, “— yep, and we need to amend the agricultural rehab plans.”

Zuko shoves his face into the pillow. The rehabilitation… Zuko dreads the meeting. It’s not that he doesn’t care that military industrial plants have damaged a not-unsizable proportion of the Fire Nation’s agricultural land, but Zuko always feels so utterly incompetent in those meetings — what does _he_ know about ecology? His presence feels ornamental.

Two attendants bustle into the room, and then Zuko _really_ has to get out of bed, to be fussed over and dressed and fed and plopped in his throne. He spends the morning trying not to appear too out of his depth, and then flees to his chambers for lunch.

Sokka’s there, mouth half-full of komodo chicken, looking over some papers that must be the all-important work he mentioned that morning. He flinches when the door thuds shut behind Zuko, back straightening.

“Hi.” Zuko sits at the table across from Sokka and serves himself some of the komodo chicken.

“Mm. Hey.” Sokka glances up at him. “Sorry about this morning.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Zuko focuses on cutting up his chicken. “More work this afternoon?”

A long exhale leaves Sokka. “Yeah.”

“I’ll see you tonight, then?”

“Sure. Late, probably. Maybe after dinner.”

Zuko hums and sneaks a glance at Sokka: still anxiously chewing, eyes darting over whatever paper he’s got clutched in his hands. Zuko’s hands itch to work the knots out of his shoulders, he wants to pepper Sokka’s neck with kisses until he melts, but he knows Sokka will just bristle and shrug him off if he does that right now, so he swallows his lunch and leaves it.

He does end up having to eat dinner alone, after all. It’s a little lonely to eat in the hall all by himself, so he takes it in their chambers, reading over some reports while he chews slowly. It’s a cool night, especially for how deep into summer they already are. Usually by this time of year, the air hangs heavy and humid, crickets screaming, and any sort of unnecessary sweating makes Zuko want to die — but the night breeze is soft, even a little chilly, so Zuko shrugs off his formal robes and takes his dao to the courtyard just off their balcony.

Sokka finds Zuko there, focusing on moving smoothly through each thrust of his swords, drawing in steady breaths. Zuko doesn’t even notice Sokka at first — from the courtyard, he’s just a loose figure, backlit by the tall windows of their rooms.

“Can I join you?”

Zuko stops, glancing up to the balcony; slowly, Sokka’s face swims into focus. “Yeah, sure.”

“I don’t have my sword with me.” Sokka’s starting down the stairs, shedding layers as he goes.

“That’s alright.” Zuko sets his dao gently on the grass. “Hand-to-hand, then.”

Sokka takes his place opposite Zuko, throwing a bundle of discarded clothes to the side. Even though he rolls his shoulders, shaking out his arms, he’s coiled tight and tense when he falls into a ready stance.

There’s a pause, and then Sokka steps in and strikes at Zuko’s side. Zuko’s plenty warmed up; he turns, letting Sokka’s knuckles sail right past him, and lands a quick jab to Sokka’s shoulder. Sokka grits his teeth, trying to knock Zuko’s legs out from under him with a sweep of his foot, but Zuko’s gone before he has the chance. Two more taps to Sokka’s back, and then Zuko draws away, falling back into a ready stance.

“You’re too tight,” Zuko says. Sokka huffs, frustrated.

“You don’t think I know that?” Sokka rolls his shoulders again, grumbling, and steps close — this time, he feints to Zuko’s right.

Zuko sees it coming, though, and blocks Sokka’s fingers with his forearm, knocking Sokka’s hand out of its path. They twist around each other, each trying to find an opening, each failing. Everything’s a blur, and then Zuko manages to get Sokka’s arm twisted behind his back, one hand on Sokka’s wrist and the other on his shoulder.

Sokka’s breathing hard, now, air coming swift through his nostrils. “Oh, come on.”

Zuko lets go. “You’re just getting warmed up.”

“Stop patronizing me.” They fall into place opposite each other. “And don’t you _dare_ go easy on me.”

“Okay. I won’t.”

They come together again, exchanging blows and blocks — Sokka gets a few in, managing to make Zuko stumble a little — and then Zuko strikes at Sokka’s rib, and Sokka twists, and he hits Sokka’s solar plexus instead.

He hits harder than he meant to; Sokka doubles over, wheezing a little, stumbling back.

“Shit, Sokka — I didn’t mean to —” Zuko’s hands unclench from their fists and hover around Sokka, concerned.

“’S okay,” Sokka gasps, waving a hand. “Just knocked the breath out of me.”

“Are you sure?”

“ _Yes_ , I’m sure. Spirits, Zuko, I’m not a fucking porcelain doll,” he spits, and Zuko’s hands settle on his own hips.

“Sokka.” Zuko says it sternly — it’s long past time for Sokka to let him in.

He’s still sucking in air, but he finally straightens, turning apologetic eyes to his husband. “I know, I’m sorry. Today’s just been…” Sokka’s breathing starts to slow, and he sighs. “Let’s go back in. Can we take a bath? I’m sweaty.”

“Yeah. That sounds nice.”

Zuko thinks that installing running water in the palace is one of the best decisions he’s ever made as Fire Lord — the tub is full and steaming in no time, fragrant with the soaps and bath oils that Sokka likes to dump in. When Sokka sinks into the water, sighing, the tension finally melts from his body; his arms and legs go loose, like boiled noodles.

Zuko crosses his arms. “Feeling better?”

Sokka looks a little sheepish. “Maybe.”

The tub is plenty big enough for the both of them — it’s more of a tiny pool, set into the stone floor and tiled with Pohuai marble. Zuko slips in and leans his head back, eyes falling shut when the warm water soaks his hair and scalp.

He drifts into Sokka’s body, limbs floating around him in the water. Zuko lets his lips drag over Sokka’s skin, tracing a path from his ear to his cheek, then down to his neck — Sokka leans into it, heaving a long exhale.

“I missed you at dinner.” Zuko murmurs it into Sokka’s jaw.

Sokka groans. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I can survive a couple hours without you, you know. I’m not _that_ needy,” he teases, and gets a little snort out of Sokka. _There we go._

“You’re pretty needy.” Sokka squeezes Zuko’s arm.

“You love me for it, though.” Zuko pulls back and takes Sokka’s face in his hands, thumbs running over his cheekbones. Sokka’s jaw is still tight, so he presses his fingertips into the muscles there and rubs gently, until Sokka’s eyes slide shut and he finally relaxes.

Sokka hums. “Yeah, I still love you.” His jaw goes slack, so Zuko starts rubbing those same circles into Sokka’s neck, right below his head. “That… feels nice…”

“Mmhmm.”

Sokka just breathes, and Zuko focuses on undoing every little knot. When Sokka’s finally limp and loose, just about purring under Zuko’s fingers, Zuko settles back against the slanted tub wall with Sokka against his chest.

“You’re so good to me.” Sokka leans his head back to look up at Zuko. “Putting up with me.”

“Putting up with you?” Zuko asks, playing with a strand of Sokka’s wet hair. “What makes you say that? You know I love you, we’ve been over this.”

“Sure, but —” Sokka pauses, then sighs. “I feel like I’m taking it out on you, and that’s not fair.”

“Everyone’s allowed to be on edge, sometimes.”

Sokka thinks about that, sinking a little lower into the water. “I guess I’m just… frustrated.”

“In general, or about something in particular?” Zuko just keeps running soothing fingers over Sokka’s forehead.

“I thought it would be… over, by now. Or something. At least less — I don’t know.” Sokka huffs. “I hate feeling like this. Like… spirits. It feels like — sometimes I wake up and feel like I used to, like I have to check to make sure we haven’t been attacked, or captured, that no one’s been hurt, or — or separated —” Sokka’s chest starts shuddering, just a little, so Zuko kisses his forehead, and Sokka’s breathing slows again. “And I _know_ that the war is over, I _know_. I keep _telling_ myself that, but my stupid brain won’t listen.”

He looks up at Zuko with wide eyes. Zuko drops a quick kiss onto his nose, and remembers something Iroh told him, once.

“It’s okay to not be okay, you know. I love all of you, including the stupid parts of your brain that won’t listen.”

Sokka’s eyelids fall shut. “I’m just — it’s so _frustrating_ , because when I’m like this… it ruins my time with you, or with Katara, or with our friends. It’s like — even though the war is over, it’s still stealing from me.”

With the steam and the hot water, Zuko doesn’t notice Sokka’s weeping until he drags in a sniffle.

“Well, I’m still here. And so is Katara, and Aang and Suki and Toph. And we have all the time in the world.”

Sokka smiles, nodding. “Okay.”

Zuko lets Sokka breathe for a while against his chest, then says matter-of-factly, “I still catch myself flinching, sometimes. When I see the throne.” Sokka looks at him, quiet. “It doesn’t feel like mine, even though I’ve been sitting in it this whole time.”

“What is it now — sixteen years?” Sokka murmurs, turning to the side to kiss Zuko’s collarbone.

“Something like that.” Zuko sighs at the feeling of Sokka’s lips, his breath ghosting over his wet skin.

“I’m sorry.” Sokka settles into the water again, curled into Zuko’s body.

“It’s alright. It happens less and less. That, and I can’t sleep well on steamships. Maybe it won’t ever go away, but — that’s okay. You’re here, so. I’m okay.”

“Baby. Of course I’m here.” Sokka squeezes his arm urgently.

Zuko cups a hand around Sokka’s cheek, flushed from the hot water, soft and pinking. “I _know_. My point is, it’s alright that it still feels real sometimes. You went through a lot, it’s not — you have to forgive yourself for not being perfectly fine.”

Sokka grumbles. “Okay?” Zuko prompts, and Sokka whines.

“Okayyy.” Sokka pulls himself up from the water a little, gripping Zuko’s shoulders, and sinks into a kiss — it’s sweet and warm, and Sokka takes it slow. Little sounds brew in the back of Sokka’s throat, and Zuko drinks them in, pulling Sokka tight to him — he never wants to let Sokka go, this man who could give words to the very things that haunted Zuko, too, who cared so deeply about his family he didn’t spare a thought for himself, who commanded a diplomacy meeting and a crowded party with equal ease, who grinned and laughed and _lived_ with abandon — and who picked _him_ to lean on and take baths with and kiss breathless.

Sokka pulls back and leans his forehead into Zuko’s — Zuko has to focus on sucking in enough air. He can’t tell if he’s dizzy from the kiss or from sitting in the hot water for so long. Probably both.

“Come on. Let’s get out,” Sokka sighs, laughing a little when Zuko tries to dart in for another kiss and Sokka has to lean just out of reach. “My fingers are starting to prune.”

**Author's Note:**

> tw: outside description of an anxiety/panic attack and symptoms of PTSD. 
> 
> thanks so much for reading! i love comments if you're so inclined, and feel free to come chat to me about any of my writing on tumblr @quenchyest :)


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